by June Francis
‘For a shilling would you deliver this woman’s luggage to that hotel and prepare them for her coming?’
Mick accepted with alacrity and wrote the Arcadia Hotel, Mount Pleasant, and drew a sketch map on a scrap of paper. He handed it to the woman in blue. She surprised him by taking his hand and gazing at it for at least half a minute before pressing a shilling onto his palm. She stared intently into his face and said in a deeply accented voice, ‘There will be four women in your life whom you will love. There will be heartache but the right one will choose you. You will travel far over the water but do not worry, you will return.’
Mick had an urge to laugh but managed to keep his face straight. She patted his hand. ‘Believe me. You will find comfort from what I say in the future. Now take this and that.’ She pointed to the suitcase and large cloth bag at the older woman’s feet.
‘Thank you,’ said Mick, feeling in a bit of daze as he picked up the suitcase and loaded it onto the cart. Odd, he thought, but at least he had managed to find one guest and in his pocket was an incredible shilling tip.
It was as Mick was panting his way up the Mount that he heard running footsteps behind him. Turning his head he saw Teddy. ‘Give us a hand,’ said Mick. ‘Where did you get to? That engineering works?’
Teddy grinned and took hold of one of the cart handles. ‘I might have dropped in there but not for long.’
‘What have you been doing?’
‘Firewood. I managed to get hold of some orange boxes – don’t ask how – and I borrowed an axe from a mate of mine. We chopped them up and tied them in bundles. We’ve been selling them door to door. I’ve made a whole five bob! I’ll give Ma four and keep a shilling meself. I worked hard to get that much.’
Kitty was pleased with their efforts. ‘Let’s hope this is the start of better days. And Teddy, I forgot to say earlier, Mrs O’Neill said you can clean her car tomorrow and she’ll pay you.’
‘That’s a whizz!’ he said, smiling happily. ‘Things are looking up!’
‘A strange thing happened, Ma,’ put in Mick. ‘The foreign woman who gave me the tip read my palm.’
‘She what?’ Kitty stared at him, amused.
‘Honestly. She said that I’d cross the water but not to worry I would return.’
Teddy gave a laugh. ‘You’re going on the ferry, mate.’
Mick’s smile was slight. ‘I don’t think she meant the ferry.’
‘She was having you on,’ said Teddy.
‘Why should she?’ protested Mick. ‘I wasn’t paying her.’
‘Forget it,’ said Kitty. ‘It’s not important. Think instead about getting the O’Neills’ address tomorrow.’
It was then that Mick made up his mind not to say anything about the four women he would love. They would only laugh. Whilst he – he felt sure the woman had meant every word she had said.
Church bells were ringing as Mick came out of the basement door to find Ben sitting on the area steps seemingly playing some imaginary game or other as he talked to himself. Kitty stood on the hotel doorstep in the sun reading a newspaper. ‘I’m going now, Ma,’ he called.
She lowered the newspaper. ‘There’s been an earthquake in America. It’s killed hundreds of people.’
‘Anything happening here?’ he asked.
‘They say women are afraid to go out at night. There’s an outcry for a Banditry Bill to be passed to cope with the rising rate of motorised crime. Apparently bandits are driving into shop windows and stealing things.’
‘That’s bad. Will you be OK, Ma? You’re not worried about being here with just Annie and Ben?’
She smiled and shook her head. ‘It’s broad daylight. You go on your message. I’ll see you soon.’
Mick went on his way reassured.
The pet shop was shut and Mick didn’t know what to do. He rattled the latch and the letter box and felt irritable. He had a hole in his shoe and had placed a bit of cardboard in it, but it had wrinkled up and the sole of his foot was sore. He had not told Ma because she would have worried about him needing new shoes.
A woman came out of the house next door wearing a pinnie and men’s carpet slippers that had holes in the toes. ‘They’re out.’
Tell me the obvious, thought Mick. ‘When will they be back?’
‘Shouldn’t be long.’
‘Thanks.’ He gazed in the shop window. The white pup with the black patch over its eye was still there, curled up in the straw fast asleep. A couple of pups had gone and he wished his mother was not so against having a dog. He tapped gently on the glass but the pup made no sign of having heard. He tapped harder and it cocked one of its ears. He tapped again.
‘You trying to break our window?’
Mick turned and saw Celia, her mother and an old lady. Celia smiled and he imagined pressing a kiss against her mouth. Immediately his cheeks felt hot. Since they had discovered from the woman whose luggage he had collected that the lady in peacock-blue was a Spanish gypsy fortune teller, he had not been able to forget what she had said about women, and where as once he would not have taken much notice of girls in a sexual way he now found himself fascinated by them.
‘He’ll pay for it if he does,’ said Celia’s mother, turning a key in the door. ‘Can’t you see we’re shut, boy.’
‘I haven’t come to buy,’ said Mick hastily. ‘I just want Mrs O’Neill’s address. We’re going to tea and Ma’s lost it.’
Celia’s mother sniffed and jerked her head in Celia’s direction. ‘Ask her.’ She disappeared indoors.
Mick shrugged and became aware the old lady was watching him.
‘Take no notice of her, lad,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how my son ever fancied her. He could have done much better. I told him your old mother has rubbed shoulders with dukes and earls and they look just the same as us with no clothes on.’
‘Gran!’ A giggle escaped Celia. ‘You’ll be giving him the wrong idea!’
‘No! I can see he’s a man of the world,’ said Celia’s grandmother with a twinkle. ‘I was a looker in my time, lad, and many a compliment I’ve had passed me by those with money.’
Mick grinned. She was quite gusty was the old girl and reminded him of his own gran in a peculiar way. ‘Tell me about it?’
Celia groaned. ‘Don’t start her off!’
‘In my young day I used to gamble, son. You’ve heard of La Marguerite!’
He shook his head.
‘You’ve never heard of the greatest paddle steamer on the Mersey that sailed between Liverpool and the Menai Bridge!’ She sounded incredulous. ‘Some called her the Merseyssippi Gambler. You could play pontoon and twenty-one from dawn to dusk – as long as you were at sea.’
‘Did you win much?’
‘I kept me head above water.’ She patted his arm. ‘You look after my granddaughter. She’s a good girl. Not prune-faced like that one in there.’ She winked at him and went inside.
‘Well!’ said Celia, covering her eyes. ‘I don’t have the nerve now to look you in the face after that.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ muttered Mick, flushing all over again. ‘I didn’t take any of that serious.’
She lowered her hand. ‘No?’
‘No. What I want is that address.’
‘You’re not coming in?’
‘No. We’re going to tea today at the O’Neills’, so if you don’t get a move on we won’t be getting there.’
She pulled a face at him. ‘You’re always wanting something from me and you’re always in a rush.’
‘That’s because I’m a busy person. Now if you don’t mind – that address?’
Celia smiled and did as he asked.
The O’Neills’ house was large with bay windows and was situated not far from Sefton Park and the Wavertree Playground. The Ryans had to ease themselves past the automobile parked in the drive to reach the front door.
‘Ring the bell, Mick,’ ordered Kitty.
He did as told, setting the ship’s bell that h
ung on the wall clanging, but it was several minutes before dragging footsteps were heard and the door was slowly opened to reveal a grey-haired, bony-faced female in a maid’s uniform.
‘Are thee expected?’ she demanded.
Kitty smiled. ‘We’ve come to tea.’
The maid’s sharp eyes roamed over them. ‘Thou’s three lads. They’ll have muddy boots and dirty my clean floor. Best thee go round the back.’ She made to close the door.
Kitty placed her foot hastily in the gap. ‘We’re not going round the back. We’re guests! Please tell your mistress that Mrs Ryan and her boys are here.’
‘It’s all right. I know.’ Mrs O’Neill came into view dressed in a rumpled tea gown and with her hair ruffled. She was carrying a toddler. ‘Hannah, give way and stop frightening them off.’
The maid sniffed. ‘Thee’ll rue the day, Missus Rebekah. Lads are the Devil’s spawn.’
‘Hush, woman! Or you’ll be back in Gerard Street with that brother of yours quicker than you can say the Lord’s Prayer.’
A quiver of distaste passed over the maid’s face and without another word she whipped the caps from the boys’ heads and hung them on a hatstand. ‘I’ll put on the kettle,’ she said, and with a dragging step went up the hall.
Mrs O’Neill raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘You’ll have to excuse Hannah. She’s getting on and had enough of kids when she was young, having had most of the responsibility for bringing up her brothers and sisters. Hang up your coats and come through.’
They were led into a large room overlooking a garden, where a small girl with dark hair which curled almost to her waist was sitting on a pouffe near the fire. She did not look up as they entered.
‘Sit down,’ said their hostess, waving them to a large, well-worn but comfortable-looking sofa. ‘Unless, boys, you’d rather go outside?’ Boldly Teddy mentioned cleaning the car and she immediately told him to get cloths and things from Hannah in the kitchen. Mick hurriedly accompanied him out, saying he would help.
Mrs O’Neill glanced at her daughter. ‘Sarah, show Ben the den.’ She turned back to Kitty and said ruefully, ‘Davy’s gone down to the docks with his father. They’ll be back soon. Still I’m glad of this time alone with you so we can have a chat about John.’ She placed the toddler in a playpen near the window and looked at the girl who had not moved from her perch on the pouffe. ‘Sarah, did you hear me?’
The girl made no response and Ben leaned against Kitty’s knee. They watched Mrs O’Neill go over to her daughter and kneel on the rug beside her. Kitty’s heart ached as she realised that the daughter who had been stillborn would probably have been similar in age to this girl. Ben gave Kitty a speaking glance as Mrs O’Neill said in a low voice, ‘This is bad behaviour. You’ve sulked long enough and if you don’t behave it’ll be a smack and bed for you, my girl. Now show some manners.’
Sarah’s head turned and she stared at Kitty and Ben from beneath frowning dark brows. She had a softly rounded but determined face and eyes which appeared almost black. Her chubby figure was clad in a jade-coloured woollen frock and beige leggings. ‘I don’t like boys,’ said Sarah. ‘But I suppose now you’re here I’ll have to be nice to you.’ She came over to Kitty and held out a hand. ‘How do you do, Mrs Ryan.’
‘Hello, Sarah.’ Kitty shook the small soft white hand. ‘Ben, say hello.’
‘Hello.’
The two children gazed at each other measuringly. ‘I’m seven in April. How old are you?’ said Sarah.
‘I’m seven now,’ said Ben with a superior smile.
Sarah looked annoyed.
‘Never mind how old you are,’ said her mother firmly. ‘You can take Ben into the garden. Then you can help Hannah bring in the tea things.’
With an audible sniff, which was a perfect imitation of the maid’s, Sarah stalked out of the room with Ben hurrying after her.
Mrs O’Neill moved over to a walnut-veneered cabinet. ‘She’s getting a right little madam. Sherry, Mrs Ryan?’
‘Call me Kitty. Yes please. You don’t know what a treat this is.’ She leaned back into cushions that yielded, and relaxed fully for the first time in days.
‘You must call me Becky then. You have a busy life.’
‘I’m understaffed but can’t afford to take more people on. Fortunately or unfortunately, whichever way you like to look at it, we’re not very busy at the moment. Now Annie’s threatening to leave.’
‘She’s one of your maids?’
‘She’s my only full-time maid but she’s also my cousin.’ She hesitated before saying in a low voice. ‘That swine Charley treated her terrible.’
Becky stared at Kitty with concern. ‘Will she be all right?’
‘We don’t know yet.’ She took the glass from her.
‘I see.’ Becky’s brows puckered. ‘That’s terrible. I didn’t realise it was as bad as that. If John knew he’d be furious. He would blame himself for a start, saying he should have foreseen what happened.’ She seated herself in an easy chair.
‘How could he have foreseen it,’ said Kitty, thinking Becky must know John pretty well to know how he would feel.
‘He’s been blamed before for things that weren’t his fault.’
‘In what way?’
‘His wife and daughter died in childbirth.’
‘He had a daughter?’ The words burst from Kitty. ‘So did I once. She was born dead. My mother took her away from me and put her in a soapbox and had her buried,’ she said rapidly.
‘So you have something in common,’ said Becky quietly. ‘But how sad that you should lose your only daughter.’ Kitty took a gulp of her sherry. ‘My mother blamed my husband for her death and my being so ill afterwards. He blamed her saying she expected too much work from me.’
‘Mothers must be the same wherever,’ said Becky. ‘It was Margaret’s mother who blamed John. She wouldn’t even allow him in the house. He came home from the war to be informed that his wife and daughter were dead and buried, and neither she nor his sister would take him in. He was crazed with grief. It was no wonder he couldn’t settle to anything. And his grandfather’s behaviour didn’t help. That reminds me.’ She got up, went over to the mantleshelf and picked up a letter which she brought over to Kitty. ‘It’s from up north but not in his uncle Donald’s handwriting. It’s typewritten. I’m dying of curiosity but Daniel’s ordered me not to steam it open.’ Her eyes contained a rueful gleam. ‘It could be a solicitor’s letter, don’t you think? Perhaps his grandfather’s died and left him all his money?’
‘Maybe.’ Kitty was still trying to take in all that she had just been told but her heart had gone out to John McLeod wherever he was. A daughter! He had fathered a daughter who had died.
A daughter! She had stopped dreaming of having a little girl to replace the one she had lost but now she began to think that maybe—
There came a scream, a crash and raised voices. A few seconds later Sarah bounced into the room, her face lit by a large grin. ‘He’s got a mouse and has frightened Hannah into dropping the tea tray. Will he cop it?’
Kitty shot to her feet. ‘A mouse! I don’t believe it! I’ll have him!’
Becky’s eyes danced. ‘Don’t worry about it. There’s not much that frightens Hannah. It’s nice to know she has a weak spot.’
They moved out into the hall and could hear the sound of Hannah’s curses issuing from the kitchen. ‘Thee imp of Satan! Thou wrecker! Hell’s fire’ll claim thee, melad! Thou see if it don’t! Get it, get it! Over in that corner. Thou’s missed it. Thee’ll have the strap for this or I’ll have something to say! There it is! Thou bring it to me and I’ll cut off its tail.’
‘No!’ shrilled Ben. ‘No!’
They entered the kitchen to find Hannah standing gripping the table with one hand and brandishing a chopper with the other. Ben had his back to a wall and his hands clasped together with the tip of a quivering nose thrusting its way between two fingers.
Kitty said wrathfully, ‘Ben, ge
t that mouse out of here! Look at the trouble you’ve caused!’ She turned to Becky. ‘Who’d have boys! I’ll pay for the crockery.’
‘You will not! It was an accident.’ She smiled at Ben. ‘I suppose you bought it from the pet shop?’
He flashed her one of his most beguiling smiles. ‘I didn’t exac-er-ly buy it but when I’ve saved the money I’ll give it them.’
‘So thou confesses to being a thief now,’ gasped Hannah, sitting down on a chair. ‘Fire and brimstone’ll rain down on thee, melad.’
‘Oh, be quiet! He’s going to pay for it. You heard him,’ said Becky. ‘Come, Ben, let’s find a box. And Hannah, let’s have some cheese for the mouse.’ She left the kitchen with her arm around Ben’s shoulders.
‘He’s not going to cop it!’ Sarah’s tone was disgusted. ‘Mummy always lets Davy off with things, too. When I dropped a plate I was sent to bed.’
‘Aye. But thou dropped it deliberately just to see what thy ma and pa would do,’ sniffed Hannah. ‘Thou’s no angel, me girl.’
‘He’ll cop it when he gets home, don’t you worry,’ said Kitty, placing broken crockery on a corner of the kitchen table. ‘Hannah, have you a brush and shovel and I’ll get up the rest?’
The maid sniffed but her tone was warmer when she said, ‘Thou’s a guest. Missus Rebekah would have me if I let thee do such a thing. But thee can cut a sliver of cheese for that creature if thou wishes, because that I won’t do.’
Kitty cut the smallest sliver of crumbly Cheshire and carried it into the sitting room on a piece of broken crockery. Sarah walked beside her asking what punishment Ben would get. Kitty told her that she had not made up her mind yet and wondered why the girl did not like her brother.
As soon as they entered the sitting room, Sarah seemed to overcome her thirst for Ben’s punishment and knelt beside the biscuit tin which had once contained building blocks but was now the mouse’s temporary home.
‘Twitchy’s only ever had breadcrumbs and a titchy bit of bacon rind,’ said Ben as his mother placed the cheese in the tin. ‘I didn’t know what else to give him.’
